


Not Quite the Real Thing

by flannelcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Nervous Dean, Phone Sex, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelcastiel/pseuds/flannelcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets flustered when he's intimate with Cas, but things are a little different over the phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite the Real Thing

Dean and Cas have just started dating and it may be getting serious, Dean isn’t sure because yeah, he’s given pretty good head at some parties in college, be he’s never been in a relationship with a dude (not for lack of finding dick attractive). He’s just abnormally nervous and giddy around dudes he’s attracted to, Cas included. Actually, he’s freakingparanoid that he’ll screw it up.

In their first few weeks of dating, Cas’s tried to take…the next step. But then Dean freaked out and he offered a generous blow job instead. Half the time he doesn’t even let Cas touch him because he’s self conscious that his moaning is a turn off.

 

They’ve been dating been about a month and Cas is out of town, which means Dean finds himself even more sexually frustrated than when he has a boyfriend nearby to at least fuel his fantasies (which he may or may not relieve in the bathroom after Cas has fallen asleep).

At about seven, Dean plays with his cell phone idly, considering giving Cas a call before he went to bed (he thinks that there is a two hour time difference?) but he called Cas this morning and doesn’t want to seem too desperate. Too needy. Dean Winchester has never feared being any of those things, and it terrifies him that he’s suddenly so vulnerable.

He finally decides not to call Cas, but he will be taking out his penned up frustration, most likely on his dick. He flips on the DVD player, let’s it load before the Casa Erotica main menu is displayed on flatscreen. Without further adieu, he presses play and lays the remote aside. His dick is classically conditioned to associate that creepy ass porno music with the good stuff, so there aren’t any dicks in sight yet before his own begins to harden.

He palms himself through his jeans at first, watching the dudes on screen spew some cheesy lines. When they kiss, Dean brings his left hand to his lips, draws his fingernail across the bottom. He imagines it’s him and Cas, touching and kissing unbidden. He hears the actor whisper to his partner dirty little things, “yeah, oh my god, fuck right there” as the actor twines his fingers into the other’s hair. God, Dean shouldn’t be this into it, but he finds himself wishing that he could talk like that to Cas without feeling like a total virgin.

He swallows a moan as he wriggles out of his pants and boxers, wrapping his fist around the base and slowly pulling up. Cas gave him head once, and it was the most embarrassing fucking thing when Dean came in the guy’s mouth, without warning. With girls it was unbelievably hot, but he apologized over and over because he thought Cas was disgusted.

He’s swirling his thumb over his own slit when his phone blares, lighting up right beside him on the couch. His entire being lights up upon seeing Cas’s name there, and he fumbles to wipe his hand on his thigh and pauses the DVD, and then answers.

"Cas," he huffs, not realizing he’s out of breath. "I—I was gonna call you." Shit, why did he say that?

"Oh," Castiel says, sounding interested but neutral. "Well in that case I am glad I called. I just wanted to let you know that I miss you."

Dean blushes, shaking his head to himself. Coming from anyone else, Dean would find the words entirely clingy and weird but from Cas they were endearing. Exciting.

"Um, I miss hanging out," Dean tries. "And stuff."

Castiel seems to completely overlook how idiotic Dean sounds. “Why do you sound like you just ran a marathon?”

Dean winces and looks down to his unattended erection, taking a few even breaths. “I don’t know what you mean, all I’m doing is watching TV.”

"What are you watching?"

"Um, some documentary," Dean answers too quickly.

"On what?" Cas presses.

"I don’t know man, it’s about cheese or something. I’m not really paying attention.” He finds himself staring at his annoyingly hard, reddened dick—yeah, he wishes he could pay it some attention, but definitely not while he’s on the phone with Cas.

He hears a sigh on the other end of the line. “Dean, are you watching pornography?”

“No!” Dean sputters loudly.

“Dean.”

He was about to deny it again, but there’s something commanding in Cas’s voice that compels him to concede. “…Not at the moment.” He feels his face redden instantly, but his erection doesn’t die. In fact, when he hears Cas hum thoughtfully his dick pangs with a need to be touched. No, he tells it, as if his tightened balls were actually ears and his dick could hear.

“I don’t want you to be embarrassed, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “You are all the time flustered when we are about to be…intimate.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Please,” Castiel insists. “I am not accustomed to—to my boyfriend being so nervous around me, in the bedroom no less. I’m not what you would call an experienced lover.”

Dean scoffs at that, because hell yes Cas manages the bedroom like a pro. He knows how to touch Dean in all the right ways, make him feel so good even though he’s embarrassed as fuck that he’ll squawk like a girl or cry when he comes. “Yeah, right.”

“Dean,” Cas repeats his name like he’s done something wrong, and Dean still feels harder than he ever has. “You are the sexiest man I have ever had the pleasure of touching, and if I were with you right now, you wouldn’t even need porn.”

At his words, Dean’s jaw slacks, and he finds his hand drifting down. No, he admonishes himself. He will not touch himself, and be any more a perv.

“In fact,” Castiel continues, “you don’t need it now. Are you listening?”

For a beat, Dean says nothing. “Yeah.”

“Dean, I want you to touch yourself.”

Hold up—”What?”

“I want you to do everything I say, grip your cock tight, pretend it’s my hand.”

Dean hesitates, but eventually complies, letting out a shaky moan that he quickly apologizes for.

“Don’t, don’t apologize. I love it when you let go, Dean, when you make those sounds. It tells me I am making you feel at least a fraction of what you make me feel.”

An unbidden moan falls from Dean’s lips at the words as he pulls his fingers up the side of his shaft, alternating between squeezing and just palming the throbbing vein going up the side. It’s then he hears soft breaths coming through the line, panting, when Dean licks his lips and wills himself to speak. “Are you—”

“Yes,” Cas answers in a moan before Dean can finish his question. “I’m—touching myself, imagining it’s your mouth. God, Dean, your mouth is like heaven, wrapped around me—” he breaks off with a huff, and Dean pictures the image Castiel describes. He cradles his cellphone in the crook of his neck and uses his free hand to stick two fingers in his mouth, thrusts in and out and moans around the fingers.

“You taste so fucking good,” Dean manages, taking the fingers out. “I want to taste you come—come down my throat.” He still feels a wave of blush, but wills away the embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Cas curses, and damn when he does curse it’s the hottest thing, Dean decides. It’s a sign he’s loose, letting go. “Dean, god, your dick feels so good in my hand—so hard. I wish I could taste you, just a little…”

Dean’s breath hitches when his thumb slides through his slit, and he imagines Cas pausing his ministrations to get a quick taste, darting his tongue through the precome and then wrapping his lips around the head. “Shit, keep talking,” he pants. “I—I’m close.”

“Me too, you’re sounds are driving me insane. I wish you’d let go like this, when I’m with you, let me hear you moan and beg for my cock—”

“Cas I swear to the fucking nativity when you get back, you can bend me over any piece of furniture—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Dean chokes out achingly, tightening his fist around the base, quickly reaching his other hand between his cheeks and—just barely prodding at the entrance. “Fuck—” he grunts as he shoots his load up the front of his shirt, and it covers his hand. He roughly milks his release, slouching into the couch as he listens to Castiel come, his mewling of Dean’s name making the afterglow even sweeter.

After a few minutes of just listening to each other breathe, Dean tentatively speaks. “Cas, you there?”

“Yes Dean, I’m here.”

“I’m—look, I’m sorry that we’ve never been like—that—when you’re here,” he says quietly. “You just intimidate me or something.”

“Or something,” Cas chuckles, before clearing his throat. “You know I care about you, Dean. You are by far the… sexiest man I’ve had the pleasure to date, but my affections for you are beyond the realm of physical.”

“—We don’t have to talk about this now,” Dean says quickly. “If we’re about to make some confessions I’d rather we be face-to-face.”

“I would like that,” says Castiel, voice warm, much like Dean feels. “I like you.”

Dean feels himself blush again, but he’s not weirded out or embarrassed. “I like you too.”


End file.
